The 'BahHumbug' Affair
by Avirra
Summary: It took Napoleon time to get Illya to see Christmas as more than just another day.  Will one awkward holiday season undo it all?


**The 'Bah-Humbug' Affair**

"Sounds good, partner, but I'm afraid I won't be able to make the gathering this year. Remember Yvette at the Paris office? I going to be paying a Yuletide call on her."

"Ah. Is that the French equivalent of her getting coal in her stocking?"

"No, Mister Smart-aleck. But I am holding out hopes for her being more naughty than nice."

"When are you flying out?"

"Just a few short hours. Already packed and ready with tickets, passport and all that other stuff. I'll be back right after New Years. Maybe we can all get together then. In the meantime, give Mark and April my best, will you?"

"Of course. I had best be going myself – I still have a few calls to make on arrangements. Enjoy your trip, Napoleon."

"Thanks. And Merry Christmas to you, tovarich."

Illya managed to keep the slight smile on his face until he was out of Napoleon's sight and the sigh from escaping until he was out of hearing range. He supposed it was all his own fault. He'd gotten far too used to himself, Napoleon, April and Mark getting together on Christmas Eve on the occasions that they were all in town for it. They rotated and this year would have been his year to host. Would have been. April was heading to Maine, Mark to London and Napoleon to Paris. Apparently none of them knew of each other's plans as they had all asked him to extend holiday wishes to the others.

As expected before he even placed the call, with Christmas Eve being the next day, it was too late to cancel the food order. Since he didn't care to forfeit his deposit, he kept everything as it was. Just as well his freezer was currently empty except for a bottle of vodka. The food would most certainly not be allowed to go to waste. Not with how he felt about waste - even after having to endure Napoleon's teasing about him leaving last year with what was left of the turkey skeleton. Not that the teasing would have stopped him regardless and besides, the soup he'd made from that had been very good.

Considering he now no longer had any plans himself, he went to the personnel office and put his status back to available. Mister Waverly called him almost immediately into his office.

"If you are quite sure of your availability, Mister Kuryakin, I have a little job for you if you don't mind working Christmas Eve."

Do a job and keep busy or go home to an empty apartment. Well, empty except for his cat. It wasn't a hard choice to make.

"Where do you want me to go, sir?"

January the second came and Napoleon started to enter his office only to find April was already there. She had just finished placing a brightly wrapped box on his desk before turning around to greet him with a hug.

"A touch late, but Merry Christmas and Happy New Years, Napoleon love. I missed all of you boys terribly. How was the gathering this year?"

Napoleon started to say something, then his eyes focused on another package. One that was neatly centered on Illya's desk.

"I wasn't there. I went to Paris for the holidays. You weren't there either?"

"Why no. My family suddenly got it into their heads that they wanted us all together, so I flew up to Maine. Oh dear. I suppose Illya and Mark were all on their own."

"On our own what, April darling?"

Mark's voice at the door made them both turn. Then they both turned a little green when they saw some small wrapped packages in Mark's hands.

"Mark? Did you go to Illya's place for Christmas?"

"Don't be silly, old man. You know very well I didn't. I was in –"

All of a sudden, Mark stopped speaking.

"Hang on. You mean neither of you were there either?"

"Oh no! We **all** bailed on the poor boy? I owe him such an apology. I never thought he was going to be all alone."

Mark cleared his throat.

"Not to further concern anyone, but has anyone seen our Ice Prince this morning? Illya usually beats me in."

"He usually beats me in as well, Mark. I think I'm going to –"

A call on the intercom interrupted Napoleon. It was Mister Waverly's secretary.

"Mister Solo? Mister Waverly would like to see you, Miss Dancer and Mister Slate in his office at your earliest convenience. He also said to make sure that your earliest convenience is no longer than five minutes from now."

"Thank you. We're on our way."

It didn't escape any of their attentions that Illya had not been requested. They exchanged glances as all of them simultaneously got a bad feeling about this.

It also didn't escape Napoleon's notice that there was a decided cold front disguised as a secretary outside of Mister Waverly's office. Absolutely no casual greetings or belated New Year's wishes. Just a curt tone and a gesture toward the heavy door.

"Mister Waverly said to go straight in."

As they entered, Mister Waverly didn't bother to look up from the file he was reading until they were all in.

"Mister Slate. Please shut the door behind you. Good to see all of you. I trust you are sufficiently rested from your holidays. I am expecting the three of you to cover Mister Kuryakin's appointed tasks for the next month or so. Mister Slate, you will take the lab part of his duties. Mister Solo, he was scheduled to do an exhibition of martial arts training for some of our newer recruits - I expect that you can deal with that aspect. Miss Dancer, there is a security detail he had volunteered for that I am sure you will handle with your usual efficiency. The details on your extra assignments will be forewarded to you by the end of the day. Any questions?"

The silence was thick, but Napoleon broke it.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir? Where is Mister Kuryakin?"

"Out of commission, Mister Solo."

Her tone was shocked when April spoke next.

"Out of commission, Mister Waverly?"

One eyebrow rose ever so slightly.

"I do not believe that I stammered, Miss Dancer. Yes. Out of commission. Fortunately, out of the hospital now, but nowhere near ready to return to active duty."

Since he was the only one of them that hadn't spoken yet, Mark figured the next question was up to him. Especially since the old man didn't seem keen on volunteering any details.

"Mister Waverly? What happened to Ill - uhm, Mister Kuryakin?"

"Ah yes. I'd forgotten you were all out of the area. Mister Kuryakin placed himself back available - whatever his original plans were must have fallen through. The timing was quite fortunate as I had a job come up. Or, perhaps not so fortunate, considering the outcome."

Studying the bowl of his pipe briefly, he continued.

"That reminds me. Mister Solo, you can access Mister Kuryakin's apartment, correct?"

"Yessir."

"Excellent. I would like the three of you to head over there and make sure everything is in order. Pack a bag for him as well. I don't know if he owns anything in the line of sweat pants, but anything loose that could fit over a leg cast would be acceptable. Oh and see if you can coax his cat into a carrier. A month more is a bit long to leave him on his own, don't you think? Deliver the cat and the clothing to this address."

A card with a carefully typed out set of directions and address was handed to April, then Mister Waverly went back to the folder he had been working on. Recognizing the dismissal, they quietly left the office. As the door shut again, Waverly looked back over to the door with a faint smile and picked up the telephone.

"I should expect them within the next two hours if I were you. Yes, I should be there in about an hour myself."

It was a very silent time of it until they were all finally in Napoleon's car. Then Mark finally broke the dismal quiet by speaking.

"Why do you think he sent all three of us for this?"

With a slightly grim smile, Napoleon glanced over.

"Have you ever met Wellington?"

"Wellington? Who's that?"

"Illya's cat. Trust me. It may well take all three of us to get him into a carrier. Unless I stop for a bribe of liver pate', that is. Wellington is a one-Russian cat."

They heard the hiss before Napoleon even got the door open. But by the time they were inside, the cat was nowhere to be seen.

"Not the friendliest cat. I take it?"

"You'd never know it from seeing him with Illya. Drapes himself on top of him. But his initial reaction to me is how he got his name."

"Oh - my. Boys? Illya put up a tree."

"Pretty little thing. I don't think I've seen one done in all blues and reds before. Napoleon? What is it?"

Napoleon had gone over to the little tree. It was a live one in a planter. The planter was decorated on the side with a Santa Claus-ish looking figure in a blue coat with a pale blonde haired girl by his side in lighter blue robes. Small presents wrapped in blue were underneath the tree. Some of them showed signs of a cat having played with the ribbons. Illya's dining table wasn't very large, but even it had been left how it had been set for four people. The table cloth and settings were all blues and reds like the tree with all the metallic touches in silver.

"Nothing really. I've just never known Illya to decorate for a holiday before is all."

Mark moved a little closer to look at what Napoleon was studying.

"Well, I suppose he did it for us. He invited us all over, after all. Nice painting there. I don't think I've ever seen Father Christmas wearing blue before."

"That he did, Mark. Oh, and that's not Father Christmas. That's Father Frost and the Snow Maiden. He told me the story as a distraction once when we were stranded out in the cold. April? Something wrong?"

"I saw the delivery box on the counter. Come look in the freezer."

As if Napoleon hadn't already been feeling bad before, he felt horrible now. The freezer was absolutely crammed full of what was very obviously had been intended to be a Christmas meal. Mark carefully pulled out one of the containers.

"Doesn't even look like he even sampled any of it himself. Just put it all straight into the freezer. Even the gravy."

"You boys go pack a case for Illya while I try and catch the cat before I start blubbering like a silly schoolgirl."

"One warning. He doesn't respond to 'kitty'."

"I found a can of cat food. If he's really Illya's cat, he'll respond to food."

Napoleon and Mark were about to close up the suitcase when an indignant yowl announced that April had successfully corralled Wellington into his carrier. Heading out, Napoleon took a moment to reactivate Illya's security codes.

Wellington kept up a steady stream of yowling as April did her best to give Napoleon the driving directions over top of the cat. It was about two-thirds of the way through the drive that things began to strike Napoleon as looking awfully familiar.

"April? Would you read off the end address, my dear?"

The address confirmed his suspicions - he'd been there before, though only twice.

"That the Waverly's home."

"Come off it, Napoleon. Pull the other one."

"No, Mark. Really. I've been there before - Illya and I were both there once when Mrs. Waverly required a bodyguard presence and we were picked to do it as low-key and unobtrusively as possible."

"Hard to imagine what Mrs. Waverly would look like in my mind."

"I doubt you could come close. She didn't look a thing like I imagined, I know. Tall, willowy, snow-white hair and eyes as blue as Illya's. I think you could possibly use a picture of her in the dictionary to help define 'matriarch'."

"Watch the old Ps and Qs. Got it."

Either Wellington finally grew tired of his own noise or he'd decided to switch tactics by the time Napoleon parked. Now the cat was emitting a low-rumbling growl as they headed to the imposing front door and knocked.

A young man opened the door for them and closed it after they came into the entry way.

"May I take your coats? Grandfather is expecting you in the library."

The soft music of a pair of guitars was coming from somewhere in the house and April smiled slightly as she recognized the Beatles tune 'Nowhere Man'. She thanked the young man, who introduced himself as Roger, as he helped her out of her coat. Once all the coats were hung, he led the trio of agents to the library door, not going in himself.

"Finally made it, have you? Excellent, excellent. I take it the growling container holds Mister Kuryakin's cat?"

"Alexander? I am quite sure the poor thing will calm down once he is reunited with his master."

"Yes, you are probably quite right as always, my dear."

The soft but commanding voice had come from the doorway and they all turned. Napoleon hurried to make the introductions.

"Mrs. Waverly, may I introduce you to April Dancer and Mark Slate? April, Mark - this is Millicent Waverly."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I've heard so much about all of you."

Something in her tone seemed to indicate that not everything heard had been agreeable, but she moved on.

"Do follow me if you would be so kind."

Feeling a touch like truants being led to the principal's office, the agents followed quietly. The music was getting louder and a female voice singing could now be made out as well. Mrs. Waverly rapped lightly and the music stopped as she opened the door.

"Visitors, my dears."

Illya was propped with pillows in the middle of a bed, left leg in a cast that was propped by even more pillows. His hands were still supporting the guitar resting on his lap. A lovely young brunette with a peaches and cream complexion was seated near the bed, guitar also in her lap.

"Alexandria, that didn't sound like Russian lessons coming from this room."

"My apologies, Mrs. Waverly. I had suggested a short break and -"

Just then, Illya spotted Napoleon, Mark and April and seemed pleased, but surprised to see them. His attention was drawn to the carrier that was emitting a yowl again now that Wellington had heard Illya's voice. April quickly opened the door and a streak of black practically flew to the bed and into Illya's lap, turning to hiss and spit at the trio he'd left behind.

"Uspokoit'sya, kotenok – ya skuchal po tebe."

Rubbing the black cat's head to help calm him, Illya looked back over to the others.

"Nice to see all of you back. You will have to tell me how your trips went."

"Illya – I'm sorry about the whole gathering falling apart. Why didn't you mention April and Mark weren't going to be able to make it either?"

"Why would I? It was rather like how you talked me into the first gathering we had. Do you remember?"

"Honestly? No."

"I had tried to beg off that first year and you pointed out that I had nowhere else to be and no-one else to spend the evening with, so why not join in? Well, the three of you did have somewhere else to be and someone else to spend the time with, so why wouldn't you go? It was all my fault for assuming you would come."

"That, my dear boy, is a load of rubbish."

April glanced back to Mrs. Waverly and nodded as she moved to the other side of the bed.

"She's quite right, Illya love. You turned up when we hosted and then all of us funked out on you. How bad is the leg?"

"It was my ankle, actually. Quite a bit of cast for such a small break, but I was assured that all of this is necessary to allow it to heal properly. The doctor said I should be out of it possibly by the end of the month, but more likely by mid-February."

"How did it happen?"

Mrs. Waverly answered Mark's question.

"That was due to our youngest grandson, I'm afraid. Mister Kuryakin was kind enough to come here on Christmas Eve and help with a few last minute preparations. Our Eugene decided to climb one of the ladders and slipped. It was quite lucky for him that Mister Kuryakin was nearby. He saw what was happening and kept him from hitting the floor. Unfortunately, he hadn't time to brace properly and lost his own balance."

"A polite way of saying that I was too much of a klutz to manage to stay on my feet when I caught the young man."

"We thought you'd been injured on a mission, old boy."

"I don't believe I ever used the word 'mission', Mister Slate. I said I had a job come up."

Mister Waverly was in the doorway now, giving an amused look as his namesake granddaughter abandoned her guitar to try and make friends with the aloof black cat whose blue eyes were keeping careful watch of Napoleon and April.

"My dear wife has insisted on Mister Kuryakin recovering here since the doctor recommended that he keep off of his bad ankle as much as possible. Speaking of which, Mister Kuryakin? I relayed your request to the doctor and he said that he will approve you to return to limited duty next week if you will agree to the use of a wheelchair outside of home and office and crutches in those areas."

"I do not see a problem with that, sir. Beyond the fact that I will be unable to drive for awhile."

"I can get you back and forth from work, partner."

Mister Waverly extended his hand to his wife as he looked over to his granddaughter.

"Come along, my dears. Let's leave them alone for a few minute. I expect to see all of you back at the office after lunch. Except Mister Kuryakin, of course."

Once the four were alone, Illya asked quite a few questions about their trips to the point that Napoleon got the distinct impression that Illya didn't care to talk about how his own holiday had been. Still, his partner did seem genuinely disappointed when the time came for them to leave.

"I'd ask you to visit, but I understand that just dropping by here would be impossible. I know you were wanting a get together after New Years, Napoleon. There is no need to delay that on my account."

Napoleon barely stifled a groan as he realized that he might very well be right back to square one in trying to draw his socially reluctant partner out of his near-hermit existence. He'd tried to salvage what he could.

"Not at all. It wouldn't feel like a proper gathering without you there, tovarich. We'll turn it into a celebration for when your cast comes off."

When they exited the room, they found Mrs. Waverly waiting on them. She came over and took Napoleon's arm as she escorted them back towards the entryway.

"You do know that I have always been terribly fond of you, Napoleon dear. However, I feel at the risk of throwing a 'bah-humbug' onto the end of the holiday season, I should warn you that if I find that you've been cruel again to that young man, I shall become quite cross with you."

"Yes ma'am. I am already quite cross with myself."

"Good. From the surprise he had at seeing you, I am certain you already know that Illya had no idea that I had requested the cat and some of his clothing be delivered here. I hoped that if you got a look at the preparations he'd made that you'd all be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves."

"He told you about it?"

"Well, yes. Not completely willingly, perhaps. Alexander has always said U.N.C.L.E. lost one of their best interrogators on the day I opted to become a wife and mother instead. Admittedly, I was aided and abetted by the pain medication that the doctor injected into him when he was distracted."

The thought of a doctor giving Illya an injection without getting his permission first made Napoleon wince. For the doctor's sake.

"I can't imagine that went over well."

"Better than expected. I'm told the doctor escaped with only a few bruises and a sprained wrist. These new doctors. They never do believe the warnings they're given about treating you boys until it impacts their health."

Reaching the entry area, she released Napoleon's arm and turned to look over all three of them.

"Unless Alexander has you off on a mission, I expect to see all of you back here on Sunday afternoon for brunch, after which you will assist in getting Illya back to his apartment. Any objections?"

A chorus of "no ma'am" answered her and she gave a brisk nod of approval.

"Very good. Until then."

Mrs. Waverly headed back toward the library as they got back into their coats and made their exit. Once they were back in Napoleon's car and on their way, Mark gave a low whistle.

"They should have her on standby for the interrogations. I think she could make a rock confess."

"You're probably right. She's a formidable woman who backs an equally formidable man."

April just started laughing softly.

"What's so funny, love?"

"I was just thinking that I know the reason now why Mister Waverly was one of the first to support women agents in the field. No wonder it's impossible to imagine what she's like. She is one of a kind."

"That she is."

"Agreed, Napoleon. And not a lady I personally care to run afoul of again. If we weren't headed back to the office, I'd ask to make a stop for a drink."

"We'll all go for a drink together Monday night after Illya's first day back. He'll be irritated enough at having to deal with crutches and a wheelchair by then that he'll need one."

"Napoleon? You know him best. How long are we going to be in the doghouse with Illya?"

"There's the rub, Mark my boy. We aren't in it. That taciturn partner of mine has already justified our actions in his mind. You already heard it, you just didn't recognize it like I did. He's a back up. Someone we hang around with only when no-one more interesting is available."

"Oh dear."

"Bloody hell. No wonder she was calling us cruel. So how do we get past this?"

"Same way I did in the first place. Time, patience and the occasional food offering."

"That sounds more like how you'd appeal to his cat."

"Does, doesn't it, April? But you'll find like I have that certain blue-eyed cats and blue-eyed Russians have a great deal in common."


End file.
